


Doll Face

by soft_bucky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Harry Styles - Freeform, Harry knows Liam. He just isn't in the story, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, Mention of Zayn, Niall and Harry friendship, One Shot, You should read this cause I think it isn't half bad, blowjob, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_bucky/pseuds/soft_bucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had wanted the doll because it was so pretty. From the sharp cheekbones, the soft, although synthetic caramel brown hair on his head with the feathered fringe hanging over it’s forehead, the intense blue eyes, the button nose. </p><p>Before someone thinks Harry is a strange twenty one year old that still plays with dolls, it wasn’t a normal doll; it was a sex doll. Harry did not buy him to be used for sex like the intended purpose, he bought it because he felt a constant tugging at his heart saying <em>‘Buy it. Buy it.’</em> So he did. It gave him a small tingle of a thrill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doll Face

**Author's Note:**

> IDK. I just got this idea and I like it. *shrug* I have other fics on my 1D tumblr bromances-all-the-way.tumblr.com

It wasn’t that Harry was obsessed or weird even. Well he was a little weird; ask any of his friends. Who isn’t a small bit weird though? But it was just the simple fact that he wanted it. Harry had wanted the doll because it was so _pretty._ From the sharp cheekbones, the soft, although synthetic caramel brown hair on his head with the feathered fringe hanging over it’s forehead, the intense blue eyes, the button nose.

Before someone thinks Harry is a strange twenty one year old that still plays with dolls, it wasn’t a normal doll; it was a sex doll. Harry did not buy him to be used for sex like the intended purpose, he bought it because he felt a constant tugging at his heart saying _‘Buy it. Buy it.’_ So he did. It gave him a small tingle of a thrill.

Sure it put a three thousand pound dent in his savings and if he truly cared then he might be a little upset by that fact. But it was like buying a new car. New and exciting. Something you can’t wait to take home. Harry had set the doll in the back seat of his car, lying on it’s side horizontally as the man climbed into the front seat to start on his way home.

Maneuvering the doll was actually moderately difficult. It wasn’t light, but it wasn’t extremely heavy either. Once he finally gets inside and sets the doll against the wall, the man locks the door behind hi. When finished with that, he walks over to it.

It stares straight ahead with an empty expression on it’s face; except for it’s perfectly pouty, thin, pink lips being open, fake teeth and tongue on display. Harry knows what the open mouth is for but isn’t going to use it for any purpose.

He searches for any instructions or information he needs to know and finds a crisply folded white piece of paper in the pocket of the light blue excessively skinny jeans that it has on. The only two words on the paper are **Model #18: Louis.**

So it’s name is Louis. Harry pockets the paper and takes him upstairs to the spare room. After one last look at the doll’s expressionless face, Harry shuts the door behind him and goes on about his day until it’s time to go to sleep.

Thankfully the next day is Saturday. Niall took him out last night because “You need to loosen up mate! You look like the life’s been sucked out of you lately.” And while Harry didn’t think he looked like the life was being sucked out of him, he didn’t look as lively. It was due to the fact that his job had started making pay cuts and also began firing people so he was under a lot of stress.

The man blindly walks down the hardwood stairs, with the heels of his hands digging in his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. When he gets into the kitchen, it’s only then that he notices the sizzling in the pan and the smell of breakfast cooking.

“Niall. How many times have I told you not to randomly walk into my house?” Harry grumbles, opening his eyes.

But it’s not Niall because this man is taller than Niall but still shorter than Harry, has soft looking, tan skin, and feathery soft brown hair on his head. The man turns around at the sound of the voice and yup. There’s the piercing blue eyes that are now vibrant and happy, the still high cheekbones almost as prominent as Harry’s friend Zayn’s, and the pouty, pink thin lips that are now pulled in the form of a warm smile.

No. This can **_not_** be happening. The inanimate object that he bought for a boat load of money (in his eyes) is standing there making breakfast, smiling, moving, _breathing._ And this is all too much for Harry to take.

“You’re Harry, right?” Louis asks and it’s voice is so delicate sounding. High pitched but still very masculine sounding.

Harry doesn’t respond. He just sits at the table and buries his face because no. This can not be happening. That doll can not be real. That doll can not be humming under it’s breath as the eggs finish cooking. That doll can not suddenly have a couple tattoos that look new (from the redness around the edges) poking out from the shirt that Harry can tell is his, along with the pajama pants that are barely hanging onto it’s hips and dragging on the bottom of the floor since those are **definitely** Harry’s.

A plate of eggs, bacon, and toast are set on the table in front of him and Harry hears the other chair on the opposite side of the table scratch against the tiled linoleum of the kitchen floor. He makes no move to remove his hands from his face in this state of shock.

Eventually his hunger gets the best of him and the food smells really good, so he begins to eat his breakfast without making eye contact in front of him. But the table shakes and Harry looks up to see Louis frowning at him.

“Sorry. But you wouldn’t look at me. Did I do something wrong?” He asks curiously, perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed, leaving a little dent at the space between them with a small frown set on his lips.

Harry sighs and avoids looking at him again because he can’t. “I- you’re not real. No.”

“But I’m right here. I’m sure that qualifies as being real.” He cocks his head to the side.

“No. I bought you yesterday. You’re a sex toy and expensive and manufactured in a factory. You can’t breathe, you can’t be making breakfast, and you can’t be talking to me right now.” Harry decides to look pointedly at his face.

“You can’t use me for sex. That’s wrong.” Louis narrows his eyes at the man across from him.

“Not when you’re an inanimate object it isn’t. And I didn’t buy you for sex even though that’s your intended purpose. I just bought you cause I wanted to.”

“If what you are saying is true, which I am not so sure about, why?” He just looks extremely confused and Harry wants to try and help but…

“I don’t know. This is really freaking me out to be honest.” Harry admits.

“I could go?” Louis offers. And maybe it won’t be so hard pretending all of this was under a normal circumstance because he; Harry has to get used to not saying it, wasn’t that bad.

Harry shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “No. It’s- just- you can stay. This is just strange.” Harry mutters.

Louis smiles and nods his head once as Harry continues on the barely warm breakfast.

“You’re not going to eat?” Harry questions.

Louis tugs his lips to the side and shrugs which is more of a no than anything else.

“You took my tattoo gun.” Harry points out.

“I saw the kit and I was curious and I like yours so I gave myself a couple. Is that okay?” He asks concerned.

“Yeah. I don’t mind.”

Louis has a stickman riding a skateboard on his right inner forearm, a cup of steaming tea on the same arm a little higher up, and a simple heart on his outer bicep near his shoulder on the same arm.

~o~

When Louis comes out of the shower that Harry said he could take that night, he comes right into Harry’s room with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Harry.” He whines as he sits right on the bed in front of him.

“Hmm, what?” Harry questions without looking up from the book in his lap.

“They came off.”

Harry looks up and sure enough the three tattoos that he previously had were no where on his skin at all.

“How?”

Louis shrugs. “Can I redo them?” He pleads, blue eyes looking needily into Harry’s.

“Sure. You know where it is.” Harry gives in.

-

They discover that Louis’ tattoos come off when they get wet. Well it’s more like friction and wetness. If some water is simply splashed on the ink and he lets it air dry, nothing happens. But if he gets in the pool and rubs his skin with the towel, it rubs off.

“See. You aren’t real. You’re around, but you aren’t real.” Harry points out.

Louis reaches his hands for the button of Harry’s jeans and Harry pulls them away.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh.” Louis whispers as he pulls them down to Harry’s knees. The jeans which looked painted onto Harry’s skin pulled his boxers down with them, revealing Harry’s semi hard on.

Louis takes one of his small, delicate hands and wraps it around Harry’s length. Somehow he knows exactly what to do with him and it sends Harry’s mind spinning. Louis squeezes the base lightly once when Harry is completely hard and looking for some sort of release.

He looks up at Harry once before pursing his lips in a kiss to the tip of Harry’s cock, getting a smear of pre cum on his perfect lips. His tongue pokes out to lick it off before parting them to take the tip in his mouth the exact way that it was set when Harry bought him.

He inches his way down slowly and when he has Harry’s cock balls deep in his mouth, he looks up at Harry’s face who had his head tilted back in ecstasy.

Louis pulls off and says “Want you to watch.”

Harry angles his head down to see Louis take him down completely. He hollows his cheeks out and sucks harder; before it was slow and gentile licks and sucks. One of Harry’s hands finds it’s way to Louis’ soft hair. He doesn’t push down forcefully. Just coaxes him down with a light push on his skull.

Louis does this thing with his tongue that makes Harry’s hold on his hair tight like a vice grip and moan low in his throat. He lets go and Louis keeps doing that **_thing_** and pulls Harry over the edge. Louis swallows the cum that comes out in spurts and pulls off with a wet sound; mouth swollen and dark pink and slightly shiny looking.

“I’m sure that proves that I’m real.” Is all that he says as he stands up, wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, and walks out of the room; leaving Harry a panting mess on the bed.

~o~

Louis wants to do so many things that he hasn’t done before, so the first time Harry takes them to a waterpark. In the car on the way there, the song Stereo Hearts by Gym Class Hero’s ft. Adam Levine comes on the radio.

After a minute of listening, Louis exclaims cheerfully “Ooh! I love this song!” as he reaches for the dial to turn the volume up.

That day as soon as they get home and he dries off after his shower to wash the chlorine from the water from his skin and hair, he adds a pair of over the head headphones to his heart because of it.

~o~

“And who is this?” Niall asks when he walks into Harry’s house unannounced like usual.

Harry turns his head around and rolls his eyes at his friend. “How many times have I told you not to randomly walk in?” He asks as Niall sits on the chair next to the couch which he was currently occupying along with Louis who was laid out on his back with his feet in Harry’s lap.

“You really don’t care that much mate. Hi I’m Niall. Harry’s incredibly caring, wonderful, older but still somehow shorter than him friend.”

Louis smiles at him. “You’re Irish.” He points out.

Niall nods once. “Irish and proud.”

“Then I’m Louis. Harry’s wonderful, fit, kind, funny, talented boyfriend.” He smirks.

Harry looks at him confused and Louis just shrugs with a slight raising of his eyebrows.

“You got a good catch Haz.” Niall remarks, turning his attention to the television.

-

Harry wasn’t as close to Louis like he grew to be in this past month or so and Louis could tell.

When the door closes behind Niall, Harry turns to Louis.

“What was that boyfriend comment?” Harry asks. The annoyance in his voice was clearly audible.

“Relax. I was just going with the first thing that came to mind.” Louis crosses his arms over his chest.

“You couldn’t go with friend, co-worker? Hell, person, thing?” His voice raises in anger.

It’s Louis’ turn to get annoyed and frustrated. “Who says _‘Oh I’m Harry’s person.’_ And stop calling me a fucking thing, it, or not real cause it really pisses me off.”

“But how many times do we have to go over this? You’re here and doing things but **you. Aren’t. Human.** Thus making you not real. I mean you don’t bleed. Your tattoos come off with a little rubbing and water. People don’t do that. Tattoos are permanent. You could be like ‘I don’t like this one anymore.’ and get a new one.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him and storms off into the kitchen. Just to prove a point, he takes one of the steak knives and nicks his finger. He squeezes his fingertip where the cut is, but nothing comes out.

“You know what? Fuck you. Just fuck you.” Louis spits angrily. Bitterness tearing through every word. He goes upstairs and slams the door to the bathroom, scrubbing off every single tattoo he has until his skin is red and irritated. Most of them were for Harry and had personal meaning which he doesn’t care about at the moment.

When his skin is back to it’s former state; un-inked, he walks down the hall to his room and slams the door loud enough for Harry to hear.

After four hours and he’s calmed down, Harry knows he was being irrational. He goes to open Louis’ door but as soon as his face is in sight, Louis throws what Harry assumes to be the remote _hard_ at the door. Harry dodges the throw just barely.

“Get the fuck out.” He growls through the choked feeling in his throat. He may not have a gag reflex but he feels more hoarse than he ever felt when deep throating Harry.

“Louis. I’m sorry. Can we talk, please?” Harry asks through the wood.

“No. I-shit. That really hurts Harry. You  keep saying I’m not real and yeah I guess I get that but at the same time I am and I don’t know what to do anymore. You really hurt me. No.” Louis says through choked tears.

And yeah. Harry feels really bad now. But he knows he can’t make Louis come out of the room unless he wants to. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair tiredly and in frustration at the situation and himself. The man walks downstairs (a bit reluctantly) to give Louis the space that he so desperately wants and needs.

In the morning, Harry wakes up and makes a breakfast for two; him and Louis, hoping they could talk and have the other man forgive him. Harry knocks on the door as a warning that he’s entering and pushes it open with his narrow hip.

“Lou? You awake? I was thinking we could talk and maybe you’ll forgive me?” Harry says quietly as he sets the tray that has the food on it on the dresser.

Harry could see the top of Louis’ head poking out from under the covers but he makes no move to acknowledge Harry.

“Come on. You can’t ignore me forever.” Harry smiles slightly as he pulls the covers back.

But then his expression definitely falls. Something was off about Louis. Harry grasps his shoulder since he was on his side and rolls him over. His skin is completely un-inked and smooth and soft. His hair was mused from where he fell asleep.

Everything about him was the same except he didn’t have that usual warmth like when Harry touched him before. And his perfectly pink, pouty, thin lips were parted like the first time Harry had bought him; fake teeth and tongue on display. The green eyes were staring into the same icily blue ones that were no longer red rimmed. Once more, they were staring straight ahead; expressionless. Just like his face.


End file.
